


Starship Churchill: Flesh and Blood

by m_k



Series: Starship Churchill [6]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Action/Adventure, Caitians, Control Issues, Gen, Genetically Engineered Beings, Inspired by Frankenstein, Romulans, Suicide, Vulcan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:27:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28459743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_k/pseuds/m_k
Summary: The story of T'Pring's later years.
Series: Starship Churchill [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2037238
Comments: 4
Kudos: 1





	1. Lies, Lies, Lies

Most mornings, T’Lon and C’Mal ran side by side starting at 0500 hours. The tiny holodeck aboard the fast scout ship Churchill was no bigger than a large closet. Still it provided a reasonable illusion of an exercise space on the planet of their choice, which was usually either Farasa (C’Mal’s home) or Vulcan (T’Lon’s childhood home). Both planets were very warm and very sunny, but T’Lon recognized in herself a growing fondness for Farasa, with its expansive forests and elevated villages and paths.

“We grow up playing in trees,” C’Mal once told T’Lon.

C’Mal, a felinoid, had powerful thighs and a tiny waist. She also had a shiny flowing mane, tawny in color, that the skinny, short-legged captain of the Churchill was envious of. T’Lon’s own short shock of orange hair and freckly skin made her feel a bit pathetic next to her tactical officer. She thought perhaps she would let her hair grow out a bit…to compensate.

“C’Mal, you are aware of how I’ve been presenting myself as Romulan since I discovered that I was indeed born of Romulan parents?” T’Lon asked while they jogged.

“Of course,” C’Mal said.

“I have begun to notice that people very much despise Romulans.”

“You are just now realizing that?” asked C’Mal.

“Well,” the captain explained, “the Vulcan attitude toward Romulans has always been a bit ambivalent. What Romulan traits would you say produce the most negative response?”

“Well, let me think,” began C’Mal, running at an even pace. “I suppose the haughtiness and condescension, the coldness and cruel indifference, the duplicity.” She then looked T’Lon in the eye and added, “No offense!”

“None taken. Then what traits would you say characterize the various Vulcans you have dealt with?”

“The same traits,” declared C’Mal. “Except duplicity. The Vulcans just come right out and tell you that you’re worthless.” She smiled—a behavior she had been socialized into by the presence of humans. “Again…no offense intended!”

“Well, I did ask,” admitted T’Lon. Her comm badge chimed, indicating the bridge was calling. “T’Lon here,” she answered.

“We have received a request for assistance from a Dr. T’Pring of Vulcan. She says a patient of hers has stowed away aboard a Tellarite freighter, and that his life is in jeopardy.”

“Speak of the devil!” C’Mal exclaimed.

  


————————

  


The Vulcan woman’s comm image hovered before T’Lon and C’Mal. She was domineering in bearing, with long silver hair pulled tightly behind her head. T’Lon guessed she was perhaps one hundred and forty years old—just entering “old age” for a Vulcan.

“I am Sovak T’Lon, captain of the Federation Starship Churchill,” T’Lon paused to wipe the sweat out of her eyes. “I apologize for my appearance, I was exercising.”

“I am pleased to see another Vulcan, and one so young, in charge of a Federation starship. But…where are you?”

“Ah,” T’Lon nodded, understanding the confusion. “Our holodeck allows us to exercise in a setting of our choosing.”

“I would have thought you’d be homesick for Vulcan,” the elderly woman stated. “I miss it so.”

“Yes, well,” T’Lon grabbed C’Mal by the arm and pulled her into the field of view, “my tactical officer here is Farasain, and it was her turn to choose.”

C’Mal looked at T’Lon, then the woman on the comm link.

“In fact, we were just speaking about the many positive character traits of the Vulcan race,” declared C’Mal.

T’Lon shoved her back out of the comm field of view.

“I request your help,” the elderly Vulcan woman began. “A patient of mine smuggled himself out of my medical facility aboard a Tellarite supply freighter that stopped here. The Tellarites refuse to turn back, but without his medication, my patient will expire. You see, it is a matter of life and death, or I would not bother you with this.”

“Tellarites can be difficult to work with,” T’Lon said.

“Indeed,” the other agreed.

“Provide us with all the relevant information and I will contact the Tellarite freighter at once.”

“I am in your debt, Captain T’Lon.”

The comm link ended, and T’Lon turned to C’Mal, saying, “See, that wasn’t so bad.”

C’Mal practiced her smile, and began to laugh.

  


————————

  


The Tellarite crew seemed a bit cagey when discussing the Vulcan who would soon be beaming over to the Churchill. But that was not out of character for Tellarites, who projected mutual respect via caustic sparring.

Earlier, while _en route_ to the freighter, first officer Danise Simonson had practically gushed with admiration for Dr. T’Pring. Fifty years ago T’Pring had won the most prestigious science award on Vulcan, as well as the Federation’s _Fleur D’Or_ prize for her discoveries in genetic repair. She had pioneered a process in which copies of diseased organs were printed using technology similar to that of the replicator device, but with genetic pathogenesis and accompanying degradation repaired. Apparently, through two failed marriages and several medical patents, T'Pring had amassed a large fortune.

T’Pring also had achieved some notoriety in Starfleet circles as the betrothed of Spock. It seems that while he was first officer aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise, she famously spurned him and chose Spock’s captain to challenge him.

What a mess, thought T’Lon, reading the entry in the LCAR encyclopedia.

T’Lon ordered C’Mal and her tactical crew to remain nearby, in case the patient was difficult to manage. Also, Dr. Li was present in case of medical issues.

The patient—a young, wiry Vulcan man, perhaps 20 years old—beamed aboard and stared about wide eyed. He was unkempt, in need of a haircut, and a bit twitchy. He possessed nothing except his simple outfit, a _voyageur sans bagage_.

The Tellarites bid them farewell and warped away. 

T’Lon approached him, smiled reflexively (social conditioning, from being around too many humans), and extended her hand in the Vulcan salute.

“Live long and prosper,” she said evenly in Vulcan.

The new arrival narrowed his eyes distrustfully. He turned to C’Mal and asked, “Am I being taken to a Starbase? The Tellarites said…that you would take me to a Starbase.” 

C’Mal’s gaze darted to T’Lon, who shrugged and stepped back. C’Mal took the hint, stepped toward the Vulcan, and said, “We were not aware of that.”

She offered her articulated paw to him and helped him step down from the transporter platform.

“What is your name?” she asked.

“I am Sentik,” he said. “You’re—you’re a Farasain, aren’t you?”

“Mm-hm,” she agreed. “My name is C’Mal.”

Sentik glanced sheepishly around at the humans in the room, continuing to ignore T’Lon.

“I’ve read all about Farasains on the public LCAR network. I read that you can kill someone with just one claw.”

Bemused, she replied, “I don’t make a habit of it.” 

Simonson then comm’d from the bridge: “Captain, Dr. T’Pring is approaching in a shuttle. She says that she will rendezvous with us within the hour.”

T’Lon frowned. “Why didn’t she mention that she had access to a warp capable shuttle?”

Sentik began to pace and hyperventilate. “The Tellarites wouldn’t stop for her, that’s why. They’re afraid of her! Lies, lies, lies! They just wanted to give me to you…so that you would give me to her!”

“Stop and breathe.” C’Mal looked Sentik in the eyes. “We’re your friends here.”

“No,” he shook his head. “I’ll take a shuttle…far away.”

Sentik pushed C’Mal aside and marched toward the transporter room door.

T’Lon stated, “The Churchill is a scout class ship, Sentik, there is no shuttle.”

He turned around, frenetically shouting, “No, no!”

Out of control, he reached violently toward C’Mal. She grabbed his hand and forced his arm behind his back. He did not seem to react to her twisting his wrist.

“I won’t go back there,” he said coldly.

As though the tactical officer were a rag doll, Sentik tossed her against the bulkhead and she collapsed on the floor.

“Stun him!” T’Lon ordered.

The two tactical officers had already drawn their phasers. One fired, then both.

Sentik groaned, but did not fall. He crouched, retrieved C’Mal’s hand weapon, and held it to her throat. Still dazed, she blinked slowly.

T’Lon started to advance, but, noticing him tighten his grip nervously on the phaser, she backed off and said, “You’re making a big mistake.”

“Get up,” Sentik urged C’Mal. “You’re coming with me.” C’Mal regained her alertness, stood, and smiled confidently at T’Lon.

“Too many people in here,” C’Mal said.

T’Lon nodded, “Understood.”

C’Mal and her captor exited the transporter room and the door slid shut behind them.

T’Lon slapped her comm badge.

“Simonson, we have a situation. Lock every door on this deck, _except_ for the lounge.”

“Understood.”

Worried, Endoye said, “Captain, he didn’t even flinch when the phasers hit him. That’s not normal for a Vulcan. Is it?”

“No, it isn’t,” she said. “Maybe C’Mal can talk some sense into him.”


	2. Starfleet Protocol

Commander Simonson and Dr. Li stood side by side watching C’Mal and Sentik on the display panel.

“Any progress?” asked T’Lon.

“They are sitting and talking,” reported Simonson. “Dr. T’Pring’s shuttle is about ten minutes out.”

Captain T’Lon peered closely at C’Mal on the display.

“She doesn’t look threatened,” T’Lon said. “Can we use the intruder defense system to incapacitate Sentik?”

“He didn’t even flinch when hit by phasers on stun,” noted Li. “The amount of incapacitating agent required to knock him out would probably kill C’Mal.”

“This is intolerable,” T’Lon sighed. “What about beaming the phaser out.”

“It will take his hand with it,” said Simonson. “I guess it’s an option.”

C’Mal then waved at them from the display and signaled T’Lon’s comm badge from her own.

“Captain,” she said, “I think you need to come and hear what Sentik has to say.”

“What about the phaser?” demanded T’Lon.

C’Mal held the weapon up to where they could see it.

“I’ve had it the whole time,” she said.

Simonson facepalmed; Li cursed in Chinese about someone’s mother.

  


————————

  


Sentik and the Farasain were still sitting in the lounge when T’Lon entered. The captain approached, tenderly examined her tactical officer’s skull and asked, “Are you okay?” 

C’Mal winced when T'Lon touched her scalp. “I’m sure there’s a bruise under all that hair,” she said. C’Mal turned to Sentik. “This is Captain T’Lon. Any help you receive is going to come from her.” Sentik hunkered over and would not even meet T’Lon’s gaze. “Talk to her, Sentik,” C’Mal urged, plainly disappointed in him. “This is your chance.”

T’Lon spoke to him directly. “The shuttle with Dr. T’Pring is nearly here. If you won’t talk to me, I guarantee you that you will leave on that shuttle whether you want to or not.”

Sentik’s eyes widened a bit.

“Don’t let her come aboard,” he begged quietly.

“How else am I going to straighten out this mess?” asked T’Lon. “She is your doctor, isn’t she?”

“Doctors…fix people,” he said. “Doctor’s…take away peoples’ pain. She doesn’t do those things because she’s _not a doctor_.”

“According to my first officer,” said T’Lon, “T’Pring of Vulcan is very well known and very well respected. Kind of a legend, in fact.”

“That’s why she hides,” Sentik replied, growing increasingly grave and troubled. “I’m not a Vulcan. I’m not like you! You saw…your soldiers shot me with their weapons. I can’t be hurt like that, because…I’m not like you.”

T’Lon said, “Dr. T’Pring claims that you’re ill, that you’ll die without treatment.”

Sentik, haunted and traumatized, said, “You can’t imagine being controlled, manipulated, destroyed and rebuilt over and over. But I am just reflection of her! She can’t understand that.”

Outside the port windows, against a vast field of stars, Sentik caught sight of a small pewter-colored shuttle approaching and slowing.

He jumped from his chair and began shaking.

“Don’t let her come aboard!” he warned.

“I have to hear what she has to say,” T’Lon replied.

“Why won’t anyone listen to me?” Sentik grabbed C’Mal’s fur-covered forearm. “You said she would listen to me,” he cried.

“She _is_ listening,” C’Mal replied.

Without warning the lounge door slid aside and a Vulcan woman with exquisite poise strode in. She was wearing a traditional Vulcan dress and scarlet overcoat, and her long silver hair was wound tightly around her head in a kind of braid. Endoye then appeared behind her with an expression on his face that indicated he did not know how the woman had gotten past him.

She visually appraised T’Lon, C’Mal, and Sentik, then directed a bitter scowl at her patient.

“You’ve disappointed me, Sentik” she said.

She retrieved a small control rod from the pocket of her coat and activated it.

“No!” Sentik shouted, before freezing in a kind of induced seizure, then falling stiffly to the floor with his eyes open.

C’Mal gasped and rushed to examine him.

“He may be handled now,” T’Pring said. “Transfer him to my shuttle.”

T’Lon launched to her feet. 

“Dr. T’Pring, this is _my_ ship!” T’Lon indicated the control device in her hand. “You are not allowed to use any kind of weapon here. And incidentally, the only orders that count on this ship are mine.” She pressed her badge. “Dr. Li, we have a patient in the lounge.”

The older Vulcan responded disdainfully. “A neural paralyzer is not a weapon. I’m sure you’ve experienced how violent that Sentik can be. In any case, he is unharmed.” She glared directly at T’Lon and spoke in formal Vulcan: “ _Be reasonable, Captain. Be logical. Have him taken to my shuttle_.”

As Dr. Li and two assisting crew entered to place Sentik on a stretcher, T’Lon approached T’Pring and looked her in the eye. They were of similar height and build. However, T’Pring had a century’s additional experience, and that weighed heavily in Vulcan interaction.

“I’m afraid,” said T’Lon, “that…we have to cover our ass.”

“Excuse me?”

T’Pring was loathe to admit she did not understand, as T’Lon had predicted.

“Starfleet protocol,” began T’Lon, “dictates that we run a full medical on any patient in our care before transfer.”

“His condition requires an immediate medical procedure,” the Vulcan doctor objected.

“Provide his charts to Dr. Li so that we may verify this,” T’Lon said.

“I…I will have the charts transferred over subspace,” the Vulcan stated, plainly dissatisfied.


	3. My Life's Work

“He appears to be in a state of neural deadlock,” explained Dr Li. “Similar to the paralysis that occurs naturally when a humanoid is unconscious. I believe he’ll recover naturally as his nervous system re-balances.”

Sentik was lying on a bed in the sickbay. The panel displayed life signs that would not be out of place for any Vulcan: rapid pulse, weak blood pressure, low body temperature.

T’Lon examined the readings closely. “What about the medical chart that Dr. T’Pring sent over?” she asked.

“Well, it’s a chart…it has some behavioral notes, some medication regimes. I certainly don’t think it’s telling the whole story.”

“So he _is_ Vulcan, isn’t he?” T’Lon asked. “He certainly didn’t behave like a Vulcan raised in society would behave.”

Li appeared troubled. “Captain, there is a lot to unpack here. Yes, there are stretches of genetic material in his cells that appear Vulcan. But most of it has me baffled. He may appear Vulcan superficially, but I honestly can’t say what he is. Either he’s been extensively genetically modified, or, more likely, he was cut from whole cloth.”

“What does that mean?” asked T’Lon.

“That he was created,” said Li. “That T’Pring or someone else designed and made him intentionally. From the many Vulcan genetic fragments used, I would guess T’Pring was the designer.”

T’Lon shivered. “Oh no.”

“But Captain, she may be telling the truth about him needing some kind of stabilizing treatment. His metabolism and cellular functions are slowing. I don’t know enough about him to say for sure.”

“Sentik,” T’Lon noted, “sounds like a contraction of the Vulcan word _sent’ipik_ , which means ‘symbol.’ But…symbol of what?” T’Lon placed a hand on Li’s arm. “Come with me. It’s time we get some answers from T’Pring.”

  


————————

  


Captain T’Lon, Commander Simonson, and Dr. Li sat facing Dr. T’Pring across the briefing room table.

The silver-haired Vulcan addressed the captain contemptuously: “You evidently do not realize how well connected I am to the Vulcan High Council. I can make it difficult for you to ever return to Vulcan again.”

T’Lon sat and stared at T’Pring for quite some time without any response.

Simonson and Li both stared straight forward, not daring to move.

“I’m Romulan,” T’Lon finally said.

T’Pring scoffed, “With a Vulcan name?”

“I will attest that my Captain is Romulan,” said Simonson. “Do you have a problem with that?”

T’Pring opened her mouth, appearing caught off balance. She then closed her mouth and sat silently.

T’Lon spoke gravely: “If this were a constitution class starship, this would be a preliminary hearing into legal and ethical violations under Federation law. As it is, we simply want the truth. T’Pring, I do not understand exactly what is happening here, but…I will. Give me the truth about Sentik.”

Retaining her superior bearing, T’Pring answered, “Sentik will die unless he receives sustaining treatment in my laboratory. That is why you must release him to me.”

T’Lon pressed her: “But he would rather die than return with you. Why is that?”

T’Pring remained silent and impassive.

“Is he some sort of experiment?” asked T’Lon.

T’Pring shook her head dismissively.

“I have been treating him for years,” she said forcefully. “He is a long-term patient of mine. He would not be alive if not for me.”

T’Lon said, “Dr. Li, repeat what you told me about Sentik.”

“Despite his appearance, I do not believe that he is Vulcan. He appears to be a synthetic life form. A purposefully created living being.”

T’Pring’s emotionless veneer disappeared. “He’s my son!” she raged. “My child. I created him…and he belongs to me!”

“You…created him in the lab?” questioned Simonson.

“I created him. I gave him life! My life’s work…is to create a superior being. We can no longer depend on evolution to ensure survival. I am creating a superior man and woman.” T’Pring was shaking; suddenly, she appeared vulnerable. “I have done great things…and I will do greater things. My life’s work will fall into disarray if I am distracted. He will die, and I will be ruined. He is my greatest creation.”

Li wondered aloud, “Why would the Vulcan government allow this?”

Simonson answered, “They don’t know. T’Pring’s shuttle originated on Toranis Alpha, an interstellar planetoid.” She turned to T’Lon. “No one knows about it.”

T’Pring had begun quietly sobbing.

Simonson glanced at Sovak T’Lon, who seemed entranced at T’Pring’s mental breakdown.

C’Mal, breathless, comm’d into the briefing room: “Sentik overpowered us. He beamed onto T’Pring’s shuttle and escaped. He’s gone.”

T’Pring, slumped and broken-looking, spoke: “He will go to Toranis Alpha.”

“Confirmed,” said C’Mal. “Captain, should we follow?”

T’Lon, still transfixed by T’Pring, ordered, “Set course for Toranis Alpha.”


	4. Greatness

Toranis Alpha was a rogue planet. It had at some point escaped its solar system and had been wandering between the stars ever since. As such, it was cold and dark. Without any beacon to pinpoint it, the research base on its surface was difficult even for T’Pring to locate. The stolen shuttle was parked on the airless surface nearby.

T’Lon, Simonson and T’Pring beamed into the facility, which was silent and dark. T’Lon noticed T’Pring remove the control rod from her pocket and activate it.

T’Lon wrenched it from her grasp.

“Reprehensible,” the captain said angrily.

“Necessary,” T’Pring countered. Searching about uneasily, she added, “I did not hear him collapse….”

T’Lon had watched Sentik approach T’Pring from behind; he applied a pressure grab to her neck. She groaned and he lowered her first to her knees, then onto the floor.

“I assume you wish to show us something,” T’Lon stated, stepping with little regard over the unconscious Vulcan scientist.

“Indeed,” he agreed.

Sentik reset the power connection and the domed space around them became brightly lit. One quadrant was filled with tall stacks of cargo boxes.

“Enough supplies for a small colony,” stated Simonson.

“There is a reason the Tellarites bring the supplies,” Sentik stated, motioning the women to follow him. “There is a layer of obduratite just below the surface of this planet that blocks cosmic radiation, as well as your ship’s sensor scans.” He led them down a steep and well-hidden passage into a large and smooth cave-like chamber. There, a similarly-aged female, who also appeared Vulcan, was patiently waiting. The woman smiled brightly at T’Lon and Simonson.

“You were successful!” she announced. “The others will be so happy.”

“Others?” said Simonson. “How many others?”

“Thirty six,” she said. “There are even more in stasis. I am S’Rav, by the way.”

“Sentik,” said T’Lon, “I don’t understand.”

“We were all created by T’Pring,” he explained. “Generations of us, over many years. We live below the surface.”

“Only Sentik was allowed to the surface,” said S’Rav. “When T’Pring required assistance.”

“She created us, then imprisoned us here,” Sentik added, “to assert her control. She is pathological.”

“She attempted to remake Sentik over and over again, genetically, to bend him to her will,” said S’Rav.

“Oh my god, I take back all the good things I said about T’Pring before,” said Simonson. “We need to bring in the Federation justice system. She is a criminal.”

T’Pring’s voice emerged from behind them.

“A criminal?”

She was crawling out of the same passageway they had used, a hand phaser aimed at T’Lon. Simonson started to call the Churchill, but T’Pring shifted the weapon’s aim at her and shouted, “Don’t! I will kill you!”

“What have you done, T’Pring? Why? Why did you do it?” demanded T’Lon.

T’Pring’s face twisted.

“Greatness,” she said. “Greatness.”

Sentik began to step toward T’Pring. Using her other hand, the elderly Vulcan pointed the control rod at him and activated it, but Sentik shook his head and continued.

“I calibrated the emitters to cancel your control,” he said.

“You’ll die without the treatments,” T’Pring warned him.

“I watched you create the genetic therapies,” he replied, nearing her. “I won’t die.”

Dropping the control rod, she fired the hand phaser at him. He flinched and stopped, but did not fall.

“I gave you life!” she cried out. “Everything you are, you owe to me.”

“I know,” Sentik said.

T’Pring shrank from him and re-aimed the phaser at herself.

T’Lon shouted, “You’re ill, T’Pring! Let us help you. It’s not logical.” 

Her eyes wide in terror, T’Pring said simply, “It _is_ logical,” and ended her own life.

  


————————

  


Sentik explained, “The tunnels and caverns extend for many miles. There is actually a whole ecosystem, one that existed before this planet was ejected from its solar system.” Sentik and T’Rav had accompanied Simonson and T’Lon back up to the dome to say goodbye. Sentik continued, “We will stay here. We were born here, after all. If this doesn’t work, or if we need help, we will use the Federation transmitter.”

“A starship will check on your progress every three months,” said T’Lon. “A _big_ starship, not like mine. They’ll have many resources to help you with any problems you encounter.” T’Lon smiled at Simonson. “A new world, new life, self determination. All is well that ends well.”

Simonson smiled and added, “Starfleet would approve.”

T’Lon turned to Sentik. “Oh, I need to ask an important question for the inevitable report I will have to write. You’re not Vulcans. What are your people going to call themselves?”

“We,” thought Sentik, “represent individual spirits. _Sol’Ani_ is the term in Vulcan, isn’t it?”

T’Lon nodded, impressed.

“Then, from now on, we are the Sol’Ani,” Sentik announced.

  


————————

  


At 0500 the next day, T’Lon entered the Farasain simulation and waited, standing in the shifting shade of a towering tree. She thought about T’Pring and her failures, and considered how much of that was tied to T’Pring’s Vulcan heritage.

C’Mal showed up fifteen minutes late.

“You waited for me?” the tactical officer asked.

“I didn’t know if you could jog after you…conked your head,” said T’Lon.

“I can’t. Doc says I have to wait a week.”

C’Mal breathed in the artificial yet somehow invigorating morning air and looked around at the many-limbed trees surrounding them.

“So,” she asked T’Lon, “you sticking with Vulcan now, or going back to Romulan?”

“To hell with both of them,” T’Lon said. “From now on, I’m just Sovak T’Lon of the Federation. Hey, do you think they’d accept me on Farasa?”

“I know one Farasain who would accept you,” said C’Mal. She tossed a greenish round fruit to T’Lon, who caught it.

“What’s this?”

“A Farasain apple,” said C’Mal.

T’Lon considered it.

“Does it have any special meaning?”

C’Mal approached her and stood face to face, inches apart.

She blinked her eyes twice and said, “Sometimes…an apple is just an apple.”

She then turned and departed, leaving a confused T’Lon to wonder if the apple really was…just an apple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The is the origin story for the Solani people in [Discovery: Remixed](https://archiveofourown.org/series/2042230)


End file.
